


The Witch of Norvrandt

by Thixotrofic



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Gen, Introspection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:55:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26840092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thixotrofic/pseuds/Thixotrofic
Summary: In this alternative plot for Shadowbringers, Minfilia is eleven years older than in canon. Despite her extended captivity, a chance occurrence allows her to free herself, and even rise to become the leader of Eulmore. She proclaims a new rule dedicated to the elimination of sin eaters, whatever it might take.As the Scions arrive in The First, they start crossing paths with Minfilia. Through these interactions, they learn about her motivations and about her, but conclude that she must be opposed. Not only do they have to fight to save their worlds, they find themselves needing to fight to save her.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	1. Minfilia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Captivity, serious lower-body injury.

Minfilia looked out at the sea from a cliff on the south of Khoulsia. There was a faint breeze. She promised herself she would never forget the feeling. The Everlasting Light caused significant climactic uniformity, but imbalances in the aether throughout Norvrandt could still create air pressure gradients with The Empty that produced wind. As impacted as the flows in The First were, there were still occasions where conditions could align and the aether could flourish, bustling with activity as it been before the Flood. 

Aetherlogical meteorology is not a very interesting topic, but she had a lot of free time.

It had only been a few months since she took her first steps outside of Eulmore in twenty years. When she was a young girl, she did not understand her situation as captivity. Nobody had reason to leave the city, and though she was locked into her room at night, she could go with supervision wherever she wished. During her adolescence, as she she matured and began to comprehend the Oracle of Light, and read stories of those who fought to live life as they wanted, and as she learned to see through the justifications of her captors, she realized.

People were meant to be free.

Those thoughts first emerged around her tenth nameday. That was a concept that she resented more as grew. A nameday was a joyous occasion, commemorating when a child was brought into the world, and given a name that they could nurture their entire life into their identity and make synonymous with their soul. Her nameday, the nameday everyone celebrated, was the day where she was stripped of the name given by the parents she had no memory of, and given one that delivered her into the a life of imprisonment.

All she had done was wait, clutching to hope. She read stories of sequestered princes and princesses, imagining herself as one of them. When she was eleven, she was sure her rescuer would come, but the year came and went. Ironically, it was around that time when her captors perceived intelligence and yearning in her, and started keeping her more permanently locked away. At sixteen, when other girls and boys were beginning to be seen as adults and would elope or stake out their dreams, she waited. Even on her twentieth nameday. Two decades she should have been free, and one decade where she had desperately wanted to be. The day came and went.

She realized she could only hope to free herself by her own hand. The very next day, she asked Ran’jit to be allowed outside. Not by herself, but just to see something of the world. She pleaded with him, promising to not attempt an escape, if only he would just grant her this. It was the first thing she had done for herself. Maybe he could not bear to see her like this, and as if out of nowhere, she soon took her first hesitant steps out from under the shadows of Eulmore.

People were meant to be free.

As she adapted and was made to adapt to her new circumstances, a number of changes in her body and mind took place.

First, it resulted in her training. Having been kept in solitude and without space to move, she quickly realized that she had a horrendous constitution, and could hardly walk around an hour outside the city without running out of breath. This was unacceptable to Ran’jit, and he immediately began exercises to build up her physical strength and teach her how to fight, if she would ever needed to defend herself.

The initial week was excruciating, and she would end each day with her entire body aching, unable to keep her eyes open as she collapsed into bed. Still, we change in ways not always perceived. Though her struggles, her neglected body was rapidly building itself. A run of a malm, which seemed like an utter impossibility when she started, became possible, and then easy. 

Her newfound strength permitted her to go along on longer excursions throughout Kholusia, where she saw both the beauty and harsh realities of the world.

From her first steps out to The Derelicts, she saw the elderly, worn down from difficult years under the Everlasting Light. Their numbers were something of a surprise to her because in the city, hardly anybody showed any signs of age. Presumably they were hidden away somehow to preserve the appearance of a youthful moment frozen in time. She saw those who lived with chronic illness, often laying on cots outdoors who had only the jutting spires of Eulmore as shelter. Many only had the energy to tilt their heads for a chance to look at her, and some not even enough for that. It was the first time she had seen tangible suffering that was not her own.

Nothing could prepare her for what followed. The symbiosis between Eulmore and sin eaters was a recent phenomenon, and with only the official word to go on, she had no idea attacks were still prevalent. She realized that the patrols she was part of were more for the city’s self-preservation than for the protection of others. People would run towards the wagon they were riding in, begging to be saved from the eaters chasing them, and nobody else would even move a muscle in their defense. The first time she had tired to stand up to fight, even if by herself, but was held down by adjacent soldiers under Ran’jit’s orders. Her only choice was whether to look away and give the victim some dignity in their final moments or to sear the image in her mind so that it may become a part of her.

Each time after witnessing such a bitter fate, she would break down into tears the moment she was locked back in her cell. She held back for the fear that crying in public would lead to the revocation of her newfound freedoms. She would empty her pained heart and look into the mirror to only see someone unable to do anything about what she had witnessed. That there was so much suffering out there made her doubt the veracity of her own.

These experiences, the drops of freedom and tides of hopelessness only increased her thirst for freedom. She had promised obedience, but she wondered what else she could deliver for herself. Escape seemed possible. Her guards outside of Eulmore were always Ran’jit’s most capable and most loyal, so it would be her will against theirs. There were moments where she would be walking along a cliffside and think of how little separated the guard from a fall over the edge.

She couldn’t take an innocent life. As much as she longed to be free, she could not trade a life for a life. She could not allow the conflicting wills of her and Eulmore to extinguish the life of a bystander who had no hand in creating either side. She had thought about this more than most, perhaps more than anybody, being so intimately connected to the sacrifices of those before her that shared her name. They had given their lives so others could live, and for all the things that were different about her condition, she could only do the same.

Stepping away from the seaside, she rejoined the patrol. As she got close enough to make out the faces of the idling soldiers, a sudden commotion broke out. A wagon driver had, while distracted, run over the back of the right heel of Ran’jit, crushing the foot. She was just in time to see him instinctively kick behind him with his other foot, blowing out the wheel, but causing the entire weight of the overloaded cart to fall onto both his legs. With the weight concentrated on his calves, he was pinned down on his knees and howling in pain as soldiers around him raced to unload the cart so that he could be released.

She was captivated by what was unfolding before her. She had seen violence and even death, but this was more than just a physical injury. Ran’jit was the strongest warrior in perhaps all of Norvrandt, and she had never thought he could be even glanced. Now, seeing him howl and struggle to remain conscious, and all because of something as stupid as a driver looking the wrong way for a few seconds… It made her see for the first time that Ran’jit was still a person, and like any person, he could be hurt, and bleed, and die.

Before, the one fact that neatly concluded any argument for attempting to escape was that Ran’jit would find her. He was too powerful and had too many resources in his disposal, and even with her new training, she knew she couldn’t evade him or even survive on her own in the wilderness. 

But now, a stray gust of wind through the window had rattled the door to her cage, bringing something that seemed inviolable to her attention. Upon observing it closely, she found it had never been locked in the first place, and could open with a light push.

As to what that push might be, she started forming pictures in her mind. She had to act quickly, there may not be another opportunity, both by the random affairs of the world and by the limits of what she thought was right. Ran’jit was not an innocent bystander. He never had been. Alongside Vauthy, he was one of the two architects of her captivity. Perhaps if that were his only crime, he could be forgiven. But his callousness was not just towards her. She recalled the pleading people left to the sin eaters and how more than anyone Ran’jit was responsible for the inaction. Saving a life was not even worth his lifting up his arm. In fact, he took satisfaction in these deaths, saying that it was an appropriate fate for those who stayed away from Eulmore.

How many had perished by his inaction? And how many more?

It was wrong to wait. She had delivered herself by her own hand. Salvation in this world did not come to those who were patient, but to those who were willing to act. What purpose did the hope in her heart serve if it failed to guide her when difficult decisions had to be made?

She ran up to the scene where Ran’jit had been released and was being lifted onto a stretcher. His lower legs had been horribly mangled and looked unlikely to ever be able to recover. His strength showed in his still being awake, but his skin was an even more deathly shade of gray than usual from the blood loss. 

As he was brought onto a wagon carriage, she tried to follow, but was stopped by a soldier. Sensing the nearness of her presence, Ran’jit cried out an order in a distant voice without moving his body. “Let her on.”

The soldier did so instantly, feeling the authority of Ran’jit even as he was barely keeping awake. She climbed up and sat at his side. He weakly opened his right hand and moved it towards her. For the first time, she took it in hers and held it with both of hers, looking over him.

“My precious girl. So glad I am you could be here… To give me the strength to see another day...”

She pitied him. For all that he had inflicted upon her, on everyone even though he always was looking through her actual person to see the past, he was in pain. As much as she wanted to for this man, she could not turn away from. She offered the only comfort she could provide at the end of his life.

Who was she? For two decades, she was only her name, her captivity, her hope, and her despair. She had found her curiosity, her compassion, and her strength. Now, her determination. All of this was Minfilia.


	2. Innocence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Death, blood, graphic depiction of violence. This chapter is the maximum extent of described violence in this piece.

Minfilia had been alone for hours, deciding on her next actions. She had been allowed in Ran’jit’s private quarters when he was brought in during the afternoon by her request and his consent, and after he fell asleep, moved from his bedside to a desk where she had spotted an ornately decorated, straight-bladed dagger. During the whole duration of her contemplation, she stared on the dagger, not able to face her victim.

She had already made up her mind, she was just getting her body to follow. It had to be now. As she took the handle in her fingers and then in her hand, the terror of taking a life was replaced by the horror that Ran’jit would suddenly awaken, that somehow this was all a ploy to test her.

Violent trembling overtook her arm as she grasped the grip of the weapon. She realized that involuntarily, her whole body had been tensed and exerting against itself to the extent that her muscles were sore and her breaths would get lodged in her chest. She took one silent step after another towards Ran’jit’s sleeping body. She could not bring herself to look at his face, and instead concentrated on the lump in his neck where she had earlier decided she would strike.

Her right hand could not be stilled, even as she tried to brace it by the wrist with her free arm. In a final preparatory step, she almost dropped the dagger while switching to an underhand grip. She leaned over him, trying to at least hold the tip of the knife steady so that it would find its target, and drove it down with one firm motion.

She held it in place, even as she felt his muscles jerking the blade as they desperately tried to reject it, but there was no other struggle. Blood pooled around the wound, and he made a few drowned coughs to clear his throat, but never woke up. It was done. 

Relaxation overtook her, a state of relief after the paroxysms leading up to the act. She could look forward to what might happen next, something she had only so far considered only in the broadest of strokes. She could almost chuckle when she realized that many of the scenarios she played out for the aftermath of Ran’jit’s death actually involved Ran’jit’s reaction, so absolute was his presence in the backdrop of her life. That was perhaps what brought her to a state of peace. Perhaps something worse would come, but for now, he was no more.

Still there was unexpected doubt. She knew there was almost no chance of a future for her or for the city with Ran’jit alive. It was however not clear to her that it made it right for her to take the decisive step needed. A startling possibility came to Minfilia’s mind, that she was acting selfishly, wanting to secure her own freedom at whatever cost and that the concern for others was an altruistic facade. She feared that she had already fallen into despair and, unable to control it, was now inflicting it onto others.

She could not say she had traded a life for the future if the future were not saved. She had to at least follow up on her actions, and not surrender to apprehension. New possibilities had opened. She could have allies. Nobody would be able to tell from the distance, but when riding in the patrol carts, passing by people being slaughtered by sin eaters, she saw that almost all the other soldiers wanted to do something. Though frozen by fear and obedience, their poorly hidden faces betrayed tears of frustration and jaws clenched in anger.

One man had the strength to suppress all this emotion. These soldiers had signed up to give their lives for others, and Ran’jit turned that into a dozen downward glances. If Minfilia could once again deliver a message of hope, what could they accomplish with that burning desire? She had taken on a burden for others. Minfilia was destined to fight and die, and for much of her barren existence, she had not even been allowed to do that. What did it matter if, on top of her existing griefs, she were called a killer, a villain, a witch, if it meant others could fight the noble war against sin eaters and return to their families safe and with a clear conscience?

It did nobody any good to perfectly sort out all the thoughts in her mind. These idea was sufficient for now. It was time to take the next step, and Minfilia did so towards the exit to The Understory.

She closed the door behind her. She was on top of a landing, surrounded by a staircase of semicircular steps. The atrium was designed so that she had a view in all directions of soldiers doing clerical work, training, or simply standing guard. It was only shortly past dinnertime and there were many people finishing up their days. Though word had spread of Ran’jit’s injury and of Minfilia’s tending to him, heads turned to behold her unexpected appearance.

“Ran-” She started to announce but stopped. She was not very talkative by nature of her isolation, and had never needed to project her voice. She tried again, this time caring more about being heard than whether she would embarrass herself.

“Ran’jit is no more!” she yelled. It was a voice and message nobody, including her, was expecting, and it drew all eyes on her in stunned silence.

After a moment, only one man stirred, standing up from his desk at the foot of the steps. The adjutant, Ran’jit’s second-in-command. He had no talent for fighting, but achieved his rank through nepotism and had maintained it through unquestioning loyalty and obedience to every one of Ran’jit’s commands. Minfilia saw that he was trembling with every step. He was not a brave man, but clearly feared a life without his powerful benefactor more than he feared the situation before him.

“S-s-stop with your lies!” he stuttered, taking unbalanced steps toward her. “I demand to see him immediately!”

Minfilia stepped back by reflex. Even though she could detect the adjutant’s apprehension, it was her ingrained reaction to recoil, as he was often the one to lead her to the dungeons, and the one responsible for monitoring her imprisonment. Minfilia found something particularly frightening about this man. Ran’jit had at least believed in something, and had forged his own path to achieve it. The man before her had delivered her torment, time and time again, not even as part of his own will, but to cling onto scraps tossed to him.

Instead of standing up tall for the coming confrontation, she shifted her weight and crouched slightly into a fighting stance. The adjutant had reached the top of the steps and was only about a yalm away.

“I said, step aside!” Standing on the same level as Minfilia, he now could look down at her as he had before which gave him a measure of confidence. She was frozen, her brain unable to come up with anything when faced with this person who was wielding his presence over her in a way that the sleeping Ran’jit could not.

The touch of another person can change a life. A welcoming hand extended to a stumbling ally, a loving embrace from a family member, an encouraging pat on the head from someone who cares for you. In this case, the touch that put Minfilia’s life on a certain path was of a very different sort than these. Perhaps if the adjutant had simply pushed her aside with an elbow, she would have remained frozen, her crime discovered, and thrown into her cell a final time to pass the end of her days. 

But he did not do that. Maybe he wanted to reassert his domination over Minfilia, or maybe it was just force of habit. He reached down and grabbed her firmly by the wrist to pull her out of the way. This activated another set of reflexes, the ones she had been newly nurturing as part of her training. She moved her held arm to force her assailant into an awkward grip. With her free arm, she delivered a blow to his ribs before regaining the use of both arms and throwing him face-down onto the stone.

“Why, you…” He brought his palms up and lifted his head to push himself back up. This was unscripted territory for Minfilia. Normally the exercise was over when her sparring partner was on the ground, since she could easily follow up with a finishing move. Improvising quickly, she lifted up one leg and brought down her boot against the adjutant’s head, the tall leather heel pressing into his neck and pining him to the ground. She felt no more signs of resistance.

She looked up around the circular hall. Dozens were staring in silence at the aftermath of an episode that had only lasted about thirty seconds, with nobody feeling like they had the authority to act. Minfilia shared in this silence at first, but after meeting enough gazes, she realized something.

Everybody was waiting for her next words.

She lifted up her foot from the adjutant’s neck. It was cruel to hold someone down like that, and she had not planned to do that. The situation reached that point by its own momentum, and she needed to take back control. She started speaking, a combination of words from her heart, from her books, and from somewhere else that she could not exactly attribute.

“Ran’jit is no more by my hand. I did this because… Because… He destroyed our hope. There was no future with him around. I have not been allowed in the world long, but in that time, I have seen how much each of you wants to help save others. To perform the task you enlisted for. Making peace with the sin eaters, I can’t accept that as the answer. I refuse to accept that anybody in this world is born just to suffer and die. The odds are against us, but I promise you this. Whether you stand with me or not, I will stake my life on this fight for our future. I will not let this world fall to Light.”

Through her speech, Minfilia had strengthened, most of all, her own resolve. She made made a promise, and she would deliver it, even if alone. The soldiers watched as she walked around the adjutant, down the steps, and selected a pair of simple daggers from a weapon rack. She began towards The Canopy, knowing that this day would not merely come and go, but would with certainty end in victory or death. Slowly, some among her audience had started getting up one after another and shadowing her steps. She prepared herself to be cut down, but the blow never came. By the time she was leading the group through the tunnels, she could hear the echoes of the footsteps of innumerable followers and the collective weight of their anxious, eager presence. Their exact numbers, Minfilia would never know. She did not turn to look behind her.

The surprise element worked much in Minfilia’s favor. Upon her arrival and declaration of purpose, Vauthy’s consorts attacked and Forgiven Cruelty, that great winged lion, fled to fight another day, seeming to understand that the alliance had been shattered. The consorts were powerful sin eaters, but nobody in that chamber feared of death, and after a wild and gruesome melee, headed by Minfilia’s frenetic and mostly instinctual attacks, they had been defeated. She walked up calmly to Vauthy and plunged her daggers into his neck. No words were exchanged, only his glare of hatred and her look of indifference. Vauthy could die with his fury. If Minfilia showed wrath or hatred, she would have to live with it forever.

What happened next, nobody could have predicted. Vauthy shed no blood but vanished into light. Minfilia alone saw the remnants of this intangible essence drift towards her body before being absorbed. Then, everyone was surrounded by darkness. All of the soldiers who could bring themselves to the terraces did so. They would see, even if they did not believe.

Minfilia turned away from night sky, the first over Norvrandt in almost a century to what was behind her. The bodies of those who had either passed instantaneously from their injuries or had already been given a merciful end before transforming lay before her. These were the bodies of those who had been lead to death by her hopes, brought down too soon to see the results of their sacrifice. A few, on the brink of death, sustained wounds that would not immediately create sin eaters of them, but left them unable to move. She went to them, and against the limits of her strength dragged two people and carried another in her arms under the sky so that they may all together see. See the future that their bravery had set in motion. It was the only comfort she could provide at the end of their lives.


	3. The Crystal Exarch

The rumors of the night sky returning to Eulmore spread immediately. For an entire moon, the Crystarium’s Amaro Launch crowded with people every night, waiting their turn to confirm it for themselves. The Crystal Exarch was much more interested in the cause of this change. For this he had to show patience. He had few probes into the affairs of Eulmore, though these contacts had curtailed their correspondence. He waited for an official word or a confirmation from a trusted associate, since the early rumors seemed absolutely preposterous, even though chief among them was the truth.

He did not have much time to attend to the news in any case. About a year prior, he had finally set out on a dedicated effort to prepare to summon the Warrior of Light, as both the requirements and need seemed to be peaking. The Crystarium now had capable leaders besides himself who kept it self-sustaining, and casting off his usual duties, he poured into the research to wield in full the power that had been left to him.

When multiple, credible accounts confirmed that Minfilia had released herself and ascended to power, heralding a major upheaval in the society of Eulmore, the Exarch was glad to have what would presumably be an ally in the battle against sin eaters, but otherwise could not dwell on the implications. Whatever happened here, the most essential element in the coming fight had yet to be introduced.

However, curiosity and the desire to take an excursion outside of the tower where he had again exiled himself got the better of him when a few moons later a pair of military officials dispatched from Eulmore sought his presence. He agreed immediately, and boarded their airship after arranging an amaro for his return that evening. He could not completely empty his mind, but at least find reprieve from the complicated technical figures and attunements he had been immersed in.

As the airship approached its destination, the Exarch noted how visual changes in Eulmore alluded to the military situation. The colorful banners that once adorned its outside walls were absent or torn, the paint of the onion domes faded from attention shifted to other priorities. There were parts of the structure under repair, with razor wire hastily installed around many of the city’s windows and open areas. 

The military headquarters were bustling, with officers scurrying from one desk to another and a number of newer recruits training, often in mismatched or incomplete armour. Further up, The Canopy had been transformed from a social plaza to a crowded workshop floor and market, where tools, clothing, and weapons were being made by craftspeople in focused determination. It was shocking at how much closer people had come together, mostly literally due to the dense living conditions but perhaps also in spirit. It was clear the punitive systems of managing the population in the old Eulmore were no more.

He was taken to the lift up to The Emergent, quite curious to what he would find and if had undergone a similar transformation. Years ago, he was received by Vauthy. The very nature of the space: the lack of interior walls, the opulent adornments, the single entrance to the circular room which focused visitors on his platform across the diameter, and the fact that it was the highest point in the city all architecturally implied a government dominated by a single godhead. What had Minfilia done with the space? It had been, in many respects, the total opposite of her cell. Nobody could criticize her if she were to indulge for the first time in her life in quarters of her own choosing.

What he found was something akin to the backstage of a theater. The room had been subdivided into compartments by the banners that once lined the outside of the city, hanging off of a grid of ropes that had been installed overhead. There were four rows of these compartments, each just large enough for a bed, an office, and some other personal effects for the presumably high-ranking civil servants who inhabited them. A passageway ran down the middle of the room to an isolated compartment, crowded to the edge, albeit one with a nice view out over the balcony. It was only slightly larger than the rest. 

The second most powerful person in Norvrandt lived in a glorified changing room. The attendant brought him down the alley and up to its entrance. “My lady, your guest from The Crystarium has arrived.”

“Oh!” There was some rustling followed by footsteps. Where two banners overlapped in the center, one was pulled back and Minfilia’s head popped out. “Welcome! To Eulmore! I don’t think it’s your first time coming here? Please come in.” She lifted the banner over her head to create a suitably sized opening and nodded at the attendant. “Thank you Lereberd, make sure you get some rest. It’s been a long day.”

Minfilia’s personal quarters were messy. The scattered papers and books were typical of what the Exarch had seen in his own workspace, but she seemed additionally burdened with administrative paperwork, gridded paper with figures marked on them, and at least one pile of opened letters. All this was topped off with a few half-eaten plates of stale food.

It was the first time he had seen this version of Minfilia. She had the same golden hair, bright blue eyes a similar white dress, and, though she had come so far in determining her own fate in a way none of her predecessors had, the faint impression of sadness that all of them had shared.

“Thank you for having me,” He began. “I am truly heartened to see the new direction of the city. I look forward to a unified front against the sin eaters.”

Minfilia’s face became serious and somewhat fatigued. “I’m really proud of what I’ve been able to do, but the situation is difficult here. The sin eaters are attacking in full force. Some of the oldest say it’s worse than they’ve ever remembered it. They fight as if they have a sense of vengeance, and we’ve fought ones that look nothing like anything that lives in Khoulsia. If there’s anything you can contribute for our cause...”

This was a difficult situation for the Exarch. He had been so immersed in observing his surroundings that he forgot his role as a representative of the Crystarium. What could he do? He was not unused to hearing these requests for help, and in the past had been similarly ready to refuse them. Due to their self-propogating nature of these creatures and the unpredictability of their attacks, it was best to maintain an excess of forces for the possibility of an unusually large assault. Over the decades, and especially before the energy barrier was operating, the Crystarium had been brought to the very frontier of destruction several times. And especially now, when he needed stability more than anything to complete his project, he knew he could offer very little. Once the Warrior of Light were summoned, then they could join her.

“There is, unfortunately, little we can offer. Our current garrison is only just sufficient for our defense, and we are already bound to the security of other settlements in Lakeland. However, I am putting all my personal effort towards a long-term project that I believe will greatly assist in our ability to defeat the sin eaters, but I must confess that it is still years away from completion.”

“Oh.”

The disappointment in the tone of that simple exclamation pierced his heart. He had been talking to Minfilia as an equal. It would be inappropriate to give her anything less than his complete respect. Now, he realized she was not the type of leader he was used to meeting with, the representatives of independent collectives and towns throughout Norvrandt who often had risen to their positions through decades of experience growing to eventually leading their people.

In fact, she wasn’t really a leader at all. She had only truly been in the world for less than a year. The conditions of her birth had kept her locked away, and after she freed herself, those same conditions made her a symbol of hope for a city that would have otherwise disintegrated. She had taken on this role because she thought there was nobody else who could do it in all the aspects she could, and she was right. She was not a leader, but a prisoner of her cause.

The Exarch had trouble recalling his past. His personal past. Though he would fondly recall memories of the Warrior of Light when he needed strength, his life in The Source had been so long ago that he found it hard in his new capacity as the leader and symbol of hope for The Crystarium to remember this young man G’raha Tia who had lived and loved in another world and in another time. However, seeing Minfilia before him brought him to his younger self in a way that his that own mind could not be made to reenvision. He experienced again, as if he were there, the feeling of discovering the immense responsibility he had to his Allegan bloodline and to the Crystal Tower. The agonizing decision of sealing himself away so that it could be reawakened when it would be needed most. Though his story could not cross the air of this distance of two arms’ lengths between them, their lives were one and the same. He had been twenty four. Minfilia was still just twenty. 

What could he do? He was perhaps the only person in the world who understood what her life might be like. That she had met him not just to ask for assistance, but to cry for help. Undoubtedly she had only professional relations and nobody else to confide in. His tears and his empathy were competing to escape first, and he had to use all his emotional strength to hold them back. There was something greater than bringing comfort to this one person, as important and as pained as she was. The fates of two worlds rested on his ability to bury his secrets and his true feelings, and while this was his hardest test yet, he knew still more difficult ones would be to come. 

What would the Warrior of Light think? Would they be disgusted with the reply he was about to give? He certainly was.

“I sympathize deeply with your struggle and the plight of your people. I will consult the leaders of The Crystarium for what aid we may be able to provide.”

Minfilia attempted a diplomatic smile. “Thank you. I wish the best for you and your people.”

He couldn’t blame her for keeping the meeting short. She was busy enough without having to make small talk with somebody who could had nothing to offer. He was seen by a second attendant to the airship docks, where his amaro was waiting. He could not help but linger over the idea of Minfilia, the one he had spoken to and those that preceded her, but reached no firm conclusion.

He let go of these thoughts as he set foot in the Crystarium. Work had to be resumed. It had been a difficult trip, but a valuable one. It was another reminder of how everyone was counting on him, including those that didn’t know it.


	4. Thancred

Thancred had a smooth enough, albeit awkward introduction to the First. He was meeting with the leaders of the Alliance when a powerful headache stuck him, alongside some cryptic voice that spoke to him from every direction at once until it came from only one direction and he was naked and cold and lying on a blue tile floor. He realized that the splitting pain had passed and looking up, saw the robed man who had summoned him. Neither person recognized the other. 

The Crystal Exarch was relieved to hear that he had at least brought over a Scion, someone close to the Warrior of Light that he had a passing familiarity with. Thancred was more than a bit irritated at being told that he had taken what was in all likeliness a one-way trip, and his thoughts remained in the realm of his departure as he listened to the Exarch’s explanations of his mission to stay a coming calamity that would threaten both worlds.

Until he mentioned The First. Thancred was sharp, but he had not thought about the specifics for a long time, and dug through his memory like a student desperately trying to recall the answer to a test question. What he finally remembered passed directly from his mind to his voice.

“The First! That’s where Minfilia went! Is she here?” He looked expectantly with more than a hint of desperation. 

The Exarch hesitated before answering. For all the time he had spent on The First, most of it had been building up The Crystarium and then researching problems related to potential calamities and the summoning. His reading about the Oracle of Light was incomplete because the causes and staying of the Flood over a century ago were simply not as important as the battle being fought now. He knew the Warrior of Light would inquire about Minfilia, but Thancred’s relationship with her was, as he understood from the stories, entirely different.

“Minfilia… She came here, and indeed spared this star by staying the Flood of Light, as I understand she told you. After that, Minfilia... Your Minfilia, vanished. Then it gets complicated.” He went on to explain the story of the Oracle of Light, and the Minfilias that followed. Thancred was looking at the floor in front of him, but it was clear he was now contemplating every piece of new information deeply.

“So where’s the current… Minfilia?” He hesitated, unused to this name being used for another person. Was it another person? He still wasn’t sure.

The Exarch furrowed his brow, not that Thancred could see when he was covering half his face. He knew the situation with Minfilia would have to be resolved, but with his tireless work on preparing for the summoning procedure, he felt completely unequipped to deal with it. He needed to keep Thancred from doing anything rash, but it’s not as if he could hide the reality of the other biggest city in Norvrandt.

“The current Minfilia has gone down a completely unprecedented path. About two years ago, she took a stand against the rulers of Eulmore, who were holding her captive. Eulmore is the other major city remaining besides The Crystarium, where we are now. She is now in command, and uses the city as a base operation for a total war against sin eaters wherever they may be as well as anybody who inhibits or even refuses to contribute to the struggle.” 

“I’m going to go see her.”

There was the something rash. The Exarch cursed himself, first for having mishandled his only meeting with Minfilia two years ago, and now with his failure introducing this new volatile element into Norvrandt. The reintroduction of his worries and the receding adrenaline from actually having brought someone from The Source made him realize his exhaustion. He knew Thancred could not be talked out of it.

“I will help you find audience with her. For now, take a moment to acclimate yourself with the Crystarium and learn about the realm. The situation with Eulmore is tense, and whatever personal motivations you may have, I would rather you not perform a misstep that complicates it. For now, let me introduce you to some of our wonderful civic leaders.”

The night that Minfilia had agreed to meet Thancred was a clear and cool one. He had arrived at the cliff overlooking the sea, the closest one to Eulmore, where his intermediary had directed him. Khoulsia had been his field of operations, as it offered a normal cycle of day and night and plenty of sin eaters for him to practice with his gunblade. It was therefore natural that he had been very early, content to take a moment with his thoughts before the encounter.

Having not traveled alone for a long time since he came out of the lifestream, he was constantly alone with his thoughts. That Minfilia was in this world in some capacity brought back insecurities that originated from when he had first met her. 

These insecurities were summarized with a single hypothetical: Would Minfilia have been better off had he never existed? An outside observer would certainly think not. Without Thancred’s involvement, she never would have met Louisoix, never would come to understand her powers in The Echo, never founded The Path of the Twelve or the The Scions of the Seventh Dawn, and never become The Oracle of Light to give her life for that of another world. But he was not an outside observer. All of the preceding was by virtue of Louisoix having taken pity on a street urchin in Limsa Lominsa. What had he, Thancred Waters, in his own capacity, done for her? Only made her an orphan. His inability to come to terms with that fact was why he drifted in and out of her early life, leaving her to F’lhaminn, even when he should have done more.

When they became close friends and associates as adults, through all those years, he never became comfortable with his role in her life. When you’re with someone day after day, really important things have a way of becoming unsaid. So it was, until she was gone.

These regrets had been put to rest for a period when it appeared Minfilia had reached her ideal conclusion. She had assumed her destiny and made her sacrifice with complete and loving determination, the same that had guided her when she was alive. That he had made mistakes did not keep her from becoming who she had to be. Now, the revelation of this new Minfilia told him that her story was not yet complete, and he feared that he would make new mistakes over the old resurfacing in his mind.

So why was it that he had sought her out? When he heard that Minfilia was in this world, he was driven to meet her, as if by compulsion. He could neither say why he wanted to, nor question himself as he took step after step towards that outcome. There was sympathy for her having been locked away for so long, and for being the living Oracle of Light. Thancred had not been able to be there for the original Minfilia after she had taken on that role. He would at least see this Minfilia’s condition, if there was a place for him in her life.

He heard an uneven rustling and turned away from the sea. Minfilia was already close enough that he could make out her face. She had the same radiant hair. The impossibly blue eyes of the Oracle. She was younger than Minfilia had been at the end, but still clearly an adult. There was something in her gait that he could not compare to anybody he had ever met.

He called out to her before she had even come to a stop.

“Minfilia.” 

This was, Thancred was ashamed to admit, a bit of a test. He wanted confirmation. 

A person reacts to hearing their own name in a way that cannot be forged. Each person’s reaction is different, through all their experiences, and through all the ways it had been said to them, but it can only be hidden with a will exceeding the instinct of identity. Even when the name is directed towards somebody else who happens to share it, still the response occurs.

What name did Minfilia hear?

Conversely, the name of a loved one is uttered in a different way than all others. The name of a loved one, spoken to someone who merely shares that name becomes distant and awkward, as if the name knows it is a hollow imitation of all the affection with which their speaker can imbue into it. 

What name did Thancred speak?

Thancred spoke to the Minfilia of his love, if his Minfilia had ears to listen.

Neither Minfilia was able to receive that name. One was absent. The other could tell there was something in that utterance that she had never heard before, but could not identify what that something was. That something was lacking even when she quietly whispered the name to herself during lonely moments of wondering what it meant to her. It was this extra component that made it known that he was calling to someone else. That she was merely occupying space where the rightful owner of that name and recipient of that breath ought to have been.

The reaction to the name confirmed to Thancred that he was speaking to a Minfilia. The way it had been spoken confirmed to Minfilia that Thancred was speaking to a Minfilia who was not there.

Minfilia paused. She wanted to leave. What had she expected? Her very identity was not her own. How could this man, who only had known Minfilia as someone else, help her find who she truly was? Something held her in her place. He had cared for someone named Minfilia, that he could speak her name the way that he did. She had a faint desire, as shameful as it was, to hear it that way again, even if it were not intended for her, so she could imagine a world in which it had been. 

She hid away that desire. There was something greater than bringing comfort to herself.

“What is it you wanted to discuss?” she began.

“What do you need?”

“To defeat the sin eaters.”

“That I can help with.”

“I would appreciate such an excellent addition to our forces.”

“I meant more in a personal capacity.” He smirked.

“In that case, I hope we see more of each other on the battlefield. Stay safe and don’t be afraid to ask for help.” She turned to leave. The original Minfilia had to deal with this guy?


	5. Urianger

The Bookman's Shelves was a fitting place from which Urianger could discover The First. He had found it unoccupied after following a trail of rumors to their origin, and quickly settled in and got to work. With what the Exarch had told him in confidence, there were many things he wanted to know about how aether functioned in this world, and this region in particular was brimming with it. Though the Fae more than rarely tried to interrupt his concentration, he found them to be perceptive and wise, and their curiosity deeply endearing.

He was appreciating a midday tea outdoors about a year after his arrival when to his surprise, a humanoid silhouette appeared in the haze. He tried to determine which of his allies had come to visit. The figure’s actual identity was a Scion he had not thought to consider. She paid him no attention as she climbed the steps and through the door to the Shelves with a large luggage sack on her back. Seeing as they were both academics searching for knowledge, he decided to refer to her as “the fellow” in his internal monologue.

By the time Urianger had returned indoors, the fellow had cleared a desk and unpacked some of her things. She had arranged a chair such that the two would sit at their stations with their backs facing each other. They passed many days in their readings, never exchanging a word, his desk piling up to dangerous heights before he reorganized it, and hers soon catching up to a similar state. He stepped out regularly for field research or simple strolls, while she seemed to rarely leave her chair except for a small set of specific purposes. Only a few times did Urianger happen up her exercising outside. When she was away, he could not help but examine her bibliography. It was remarkably similar to his own, advanced texts on aether, aetherial flows and elemental attunements, history of remaining lands of The First, and adjacent topics. The key difference was an occasional volume that described her own proto-biography, the spine usually obscured by another book or a sheet of notes as if positioned purposefully.

Two weeks into the unspoken arrangement, Urianger was copying a diagram onto a large wall scroll from a book about aetherlogical meteorology, adding his own annotations when the fellow suddenly asked him from her desk about why he had marked an Rak'tika Greatwood with a symbol whose meaning she had inferred. This lead to a long discussion about the topic and its application across all the lands of Norvrandt, with the fellow reciting measurements she had taken on her travels, and Urianger referring to similar empirics from The Source. This shattered the silence between them, with Urianger remembering what he known all along. Exploration, whether of places or ideas, was simply better with another person.

Despite the barrier that had come down, there was no personal aspect to their discussion, which remained firmly in the theoretical, and she never joined him on his outdoor excursions. It was exactly two weeks since the fellow’s first appearance in the distance that Urianger decided to broach the topic as he stood by the front doors, preparing to relax outside for the evening. The fellow was copying notes from the final pages of a curious book about light and darkness that presented its conclusions in a narrative tone instead of standard analytical and objective voice. Urianger had skimmed over it early on, but struggled to make sense of it given the peculiar language and his assumptions about the nature of the attunements of these forces that he now knew had been mistaken. 

“Thine steadfast application to thine readings resembleth in no small way to my own youth as a student, and of many others among my peers,” he began. There was no reaction.

“Fortune smiled brightly upon me when I was delivered a most dear friend, abundant with zeal for the world when I had only an appetite for tomes.” The fellow looked up from her book at him. “I had believed that whichever vexing question of existence one sought to unravel, the answer could without fail be found in an exhaustive search in the archives. The shining example she promoted in her actions and compulsions upon myself did not merely enliven my existence, it also enriched my studies. To her, aether was nary an intangible unit of analysis, but a force which hath its own will and vitality, ever present through the land and dancing among living beings. To pass an afternoon resting on the side of a hill swept with wind or in idle chatter is not to neglect thine impetus to understand, ‘tis rather the very foundation of understanding.”

Urianger turned to open the door. “Comest with me if thou wishest to learn what layeth beyond the pages.”

He went outside and took a seat on the top step leading up to the building. A series of eager footsteps were audible from the inside, and soon the fellow was sitting beside him, though keeping a fair distance between them. He could tell in the corner of his vision that her eyes were turned up towards the Everlasting Light.

“Surely thou didst not journey to these lands to behold that which you can see anywhere? Descendest thine gaze, so that thou mayst regard that which thou seekest to treasure.”

Though she had passed through the land to reach the Shelves, the fellow seemed to perceive it as if for the first time. Her eyes opened up with wonder, darting from one beautiful sight to another. The sapphire waters of the lake, hills unabashedly flaunting carpets of flowers, crystal spires that cast rainbows of light and soaring cliffs and valleys in the distance in all directions. Finally, she lingered on Lyhe Ghiah, that castle by which a kingdom’s past insisted that it had really existed. The fellows passed an evening transfixed by the scene, different thoughts for each but similar wishes in their hearts. 

Urianger woke peacefully the next morning. The fellows had not exchanged a word with each other outside, and eventually he had left her for the night. He looked over the railing of the sleeping area and found an unexpected sight. The room had been tidied up, with stray papers stacked, books reshelved, even the rugs straightened.

Notably, the fellow’s desk was completely cleared, as she had prepared it on the day of her arrival. The heavy wood surface, polished by decades of use, seemed to beam with pride at having been put again to its intended purpose, but could say nothing about what its companion had been doing, or to where they had departed.


	6. Alisaie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Themes typical from canon at The Inn at Journey’s Head

Alisaie’s time in The Crystarium was brief, not least because of her frustration of the Crystal Exarch. Upon her arrival, she had him explain why she had been taken away from The Source, then berated him, had him explain the situation in The First and where the other Scions were, was relieved that his brother was okay, berated him again, and then left as he started to explain the political situation of the realm. That sort of thing was better left to Alphinaud.

She then spent another day in The Crystarium, getting outfitted, talking to the residents, and hearing their stories. By the next morning, she was at the Amaro Launch to set out for Amh Araeng, as that would place one Scion in each of the major regions of Norvrandt, maybe more depending on where Thancred was. She supposed it was not accidental that her going off on her own while Alphinaud sought allies for his cause was just how they had split paths after first arriving in Eorzea.

It was not long after she arrived at that she decided to head towards The Inn at Journey's Head. Helping others reminded her of what it was she wanted to protect, even if this time she felt already sufficiently motivated by the fates of her world and the Warrior of Light. With her waiting for that person’s arrival, it seemed a good opportunity to do the type of work that had a smaller impact than she was used to but would mean everything to those who were affected. The type of service that she was usually too occupied for.

It took no small amount of bravery on her part. Everybody spoke of The Inn and its carers in glowing terms, but they also seemed to try and distance themselves from it, referring to it euphemistically or as if it were not a physical location. Alisaie could not blame them; it was hard enough to live in this world without the constant reminders of the danger they all lived under. For Alisaie too, it was easier to just fight the fight in front of her and think of the smiles she would bring to people’s faces, instead of all the misery she wanted to prevent. Still, there were few looking over the afflicted, and she was resolved to do what she could.

Alisaie was intending to give her efforts for nothing in return, but as she was kindly welcomed and integrated into the affairs of The Inn, she realized she had been presumptuous. Though their resources were limited, the people at Journey’s Head had so many riches to share. Tesleen, with whom Alisaie became almost immediately close, showed her what it meant to be kind and hopeful, even in the most adverse of situations. She gave a living example of patience and compassion. She also shared with Alisaie a number of coping strategies she could use to protect herself, and together they worked to face not just the emotional challenges of their current environment, but even some of the anxieties Alisaie had brought with her from The Source. 

The guards were far from an elite force, but what they lacked in talent or equipment they made up for in decades of experience fighting, tracking and anticipating sin eaters. They knew how to defeat lesser eaters with minimal risk to the fighter, and against what variants it would be better to flee. It was a point of great pride that they had not lost a resident of The Inn to an eater in over five years. Alisaie tended to attack with a fast and aggressive style, and from these mentors she learned a more calculated, defensive skillset that would be essential in her coming adventure.

Even the afflicted had something to teach Alisaie, though these lessons were less tangible. She could tell how hard each of them was fighting, and in caring for them, learned the importance of perseverance even when one could not see the results of their actions. Her efforts could help slow the transformations of the patients who were earlier in their progression, but for those that were already distant, she could only hope that something was getting through.

There were not many visitors to The Inn. Besides a few regular supply convoys aside, visitors were almost always new patients. Tesleen said that in recent years, the number of admits had fallen, which was positive news since things grew difficult when admissions exceeded discharges. Of course, in their context, discharging was a euphemistic term, but some affairs benefited from this objectivity. 

One day, Alisaie was looking out to the north between her shifts when she saw a large mass approaching in the sand. She was content to observe at first, but grew concerned as she identified it as being about a dozen armoured soldiers. In her experience, the powerful never had good intentions when they paid a visit to the humble, those who had nothing. Why did they have this impulse? Presumably it gave them a twisted sense of power. She placed her hand on the handle of her rapier and started planning her moves in different scenarios for how these guests might make themselves known.

However, before anything could go awry, Tesleen ran past her and up to the woman several strides ahead of the soldiers, whom Alisaie had failed to notice. Her white dress and blonde hair blended in with the sands, or perhaps she was just fixated on the dark armor of her retinue and had missed her. She no longer anticipated a battle, but was still alert to signs of trouble.

The unfamiliar woman stopped and greeted Tesleen with a smile, her soldiers stopping shortly behind her. The two chatted briefly before the visitor was escorted into The Inn, not noticing her silent observer, or at least not acknowledging her. What happened next shocked Alisaie.

Tesleen walked around The Inn, pointing things out to the visitor, who observed and asked the occasional question. At times, she seemed to recognize some of the afflicted, and greeted them with gentle warmth that was reciprocated by those who were able to. After the visitor had done a round of the whole facility, she started directing the soldiers who had accompanied her. They unloaded the supplies they brought with them and got to work repairing furniture, building up fortifications, or even moving crates as directed. The visitor herself gave orders, lent a hand when it was needed, or in less busy periods simply helped with tasks like cooking and reading to the patients. Though she kept two daggers equally beautiful and vicious at her side at all times, she seemed to prefer inside tasks to patrolling.

Not wanting to be outdone, Alisaie redoubled her patrols, and even was embarrassed to be frustrated when she failed to come across any sin eaters. Still, she used the time outside to reflect on her admiration of this woman, which far outstripped any feelings of inferiority. 

She had been pleased at first to see the female leaders of the Grand Companies, but this only enhanced the disgust she later felt when she realized how disagreeable their attitudes to governance were. They preferred comfort for a few and stability over an ambitious drive to do good for their citizens and eradicate the problems in their societies.

After seeing what this woman was capable of through her leadership, for perhaps the first time, she could imagine herself taking on a role in politics like her brother, instead of working by herself or as part of a small group of specialists like the Scions. If she could bring her true feelings to the task of leadership, as this woman seemed to, her soul could magnify the potential of others, instead of being tied down by compromises between bickering factions.

The two of them continued to be immersed in their tasks, never directly interacting. Alisaie would regularly watch her from a distance, trying to see what she could learn from observation. She also started helping out the soldiers with some of their tasks, sometimes peeking over her shoulder to see if her efforts were being noticed by the visitor. Not unlike what she had done with Tesleen when she first arrived. Could she grow up to be both women at the same time?

Exactly a week after her arrival in the evening, she found the visitor sitting alone on the steps of the north entrance. Alisaie knew that she preparing to leave. Her soldiers had completed their work and had already packed. The furnishing and fortifications of The Inn were given new life. The guards and kitchens were reequipped, the food stores restocked. All the carers and the still expressive patients wore expressions of relative comfort and relief. The other clue to the imminent departure was that the visitor usually rested by sitting at the south entrance, gazing out at the castle ruins. This time, it was clear she was looking out to where she intended to go.

Alisaie saw this was her best and perhaps last chance to go talk to her. Why did she hesitate? They were clearly on the same side. There was no question that her presence would be welcomed. She realized that she had been incredibly fortunate that the people she looked up to most were already her close friends, so there was never the faintest embarrassment from approaching them or asking for advice. In a rarity for her, shyness and not physical distance separated her from the subject of her admiration.

She had charged into the front lines of battle, dove straight at all manner of beasts and creatures without the slightest pause. How could this be so difficult? She tried to calm herself and her racing heart, envisioning the outcome she wanted, instead of the worst case scenario, as Tesleen had taught her.

“Mind if I sit with you?” She had already walked up beside her.

The woman smiled up at her. “Please.”

Alisaie looked out into the dunes, wondering if she could see the same view that the visitor did, and if that might help her match her strength.

“I wanted to say thanks. For all the things you and your soldiers have done in the past week. I know it might just seem like simple stuff but… I’m just really thankful you showed me your example of leadership.” 

The woman looked at her with a gentle expression that put her completely at ease, as if she was accepting Alisaie in her entirety. “Thank you for protecting us while we worked. You’re quite the capable fighter.”

Alisaie’s face lit up. A wave of pleasure washed through her, shouting, “she noticed!” So potent it was as it coursed through her that she worried the woman could see it through her skin. Satisfied, she could not hold her any longer. Surely, there were other places where she was needed. What she wanted to say most had been said, and she would have struggled to find more words.

The woman stood up and beckoned to her soldiers who gathered their belongings, and they started the march out into the desert. Had she been waiting for Alisaie to approach her? She wasn’t sure her heart could handle the possibility.

“She’s amazing, wouldn’t you agree?” Tesleen had joined Alisaie after watching from a distance, wanting her to have a private moment with the woman who had now inspired the both of them so much.

Alisaie smiled. “I wish I could see her again. I think we could grow to become really good friends. But for someone as important as her, there are just too many battles to be fought to provide comfort a few souls like we do here.”

“Some people say that Minfilia will one day again save the whole world.”

Alisaie reflected solemnly on that woman whom she had felt like she knew very well though only because of stories from the other Scions. She had only one passing encounter with her at the Sands during her research into Bahamut, but through a strange twist of fates, was present when she, acting as the Oracle of Light, went with the Warriors of Darkness to-

Her head whipped around to face Tesleen.

“Wait, what.”


	7. The Warrior of Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Self-doubt, helplessness. Reference to death.

The Crystal Exarch was at his limits. He could not fail again. He could live with the petitioning of the Scions in The First for another century; patience was his strong suit. However, Minfilia saw time like an open wound. Every day that passed was the blood of people slipping through her fingers. She had stabilized the situation in Eulmore after about four years of brutal, near-constant attacks, and for the two years after that had sought to expand the domain under her influence and protection, which now spanned the entirety of Kholusia and even parts of Lakeland. More recently, the role of Lightwardens became better understood, and she seemed to be growing desperate looking for one, believing it would be a huge step towards cleansing the realm.

She was right, of course. But it could not be her to do it. The Exarch needed as much light essence absorbed by the Warrior of Light as possible so that he could channel it from them and away from The First in a single decisive move. That Minfilia had already apparently absorbed the essence of one Lightwarden was concerning, but did not ruin his overall plan. That is, along as he could succeed in this summoning attempt.

The successful summoning of his champion would not only be crucial to the realm, it would also finally allow him to move on. To leave his final impressions on the people of The Crystarium and to depart having made it better prepared for his absence, which the next time would be absolute and permanent. For six years, he could only focus on one thing, and his people had suffered for his failure in that singular pursuit. For how much they wanted to make the city even more of a beautiful refuge while he was preoccupied, they could only feel his absence.

They felt it in missing his unique empathy in accepting new residents to The Crystarium, the way he not only instilled in them a sense of security but also conveyed to them the importance of working together in building the peaceful and prosperous society that had welcomed them. They felt it in yearning for his diplomatic and military sense, both in reducing casualties against sin eater raids, as well as the recent threat Eulmore’s demands on the rest of Lakeland for war contributions. Most of all, they felt it in longing for his just being a mentor, a friend, a father. Where he previously was constantly present in people’s lives, for the past seven years he only rarely received guests, and even more infrequently did he appear in public. They could look to the tower for hope, but no longer could they receive reassurance from the man who dwelled inside.

The Exarch was frustrated because as much as it pained him to put his people through this, he had to complete his work. There was simply no future without the Warrior of Light, and knew from first-hand experience of what a world with no future looked like. Not only did he have to allow his people to suffer his isolation from them, he had to ignore the effects of his neglect, lest those emotions start to interfere with his concentration. 

As skilled as he was in compartmentalizing his mind, one emotion had grown impossible to suppress that at once both motivated him and damaged his well-being. Fear. He had always been self-assured as an adventurer, but inheriting the legacy of an advanced, ancient civilization and now being the absolute linchpin of a plan spanning two worlds and centuries long in the making with implications for the fate of existence was a step up from fighting wilds beasts and procuring medicine. 

Even then, a mound of haughtiness and a mountain of hope had kept him optimistic. After all, this destiny was given to him for a reason, and if he were not ready to face it, he would have to grow stronger until he was able to. This had lasted him well. Until recent years. He was at the part of the plan that was entirely dependent on him and him alone. The essential penultimate step, and he had failed again, and again, and again. 

Each encounter with a summoned Scion was like seeing a ghost. Somebody who had died, and reborn, only to be helpless in defending their life until it would once again be taken from them. The presence of a Scion replayed in the mind of The Exarch not only that person’s own death, but the horrible, slow passage of the Warrior of Light. The one who had always cheered him on, who had done so much to keep a faint glimmer of hope alive even when they no longer were. They had done so much for him, and he couldn’t repay them back with this one, simple task.

He felt as if he were strangling them with his own hands.

There was an incredible cruelty to fate. For all it had done in creating this path of hope through the Warrior of Light, for giving him this chance to see them again, it sometimes felt to him strange that everyone else had such a minimal say in determining their own lives. That all they could do was hope to hold on until someone else, chosen by destiny, showed up to actually make the difference. More recently, he found it additionally cruel that everybody’s hopes were resting in his clumsy, incapable self. It was fortunate that he at least had a specific role to play, something to give him direction. Where would he be if all these responsibilities had not been thrust upon him? Even worse off than he was now.

This time, he had taken an approach of essentially waiting for the Warrior to come to him. He buried his fear for one day, to make the final preparations with complete focus. What would he do if he failed? There would be nothing to do but to try again. He would keep trying, until left alone in his tower, all the rest of Norvrandt lost to the light. At that point, it would be only to bring him solace. Give himself a selfish comfort at the end of times, just to be in their presence, and to know that the trust in him had not been entirely misplaced, just mostly.

Lyna was on guard outside The Crystarium, her usual post. It had been a calm day in regards to spottings of sin eaters, but she was more alert than she had been in many moons. She had, not long earlier, received a message on her personal linkpearl with The Exarch. Even though it had been years since it had sounded, she had kept it with her the entire time. She was told to be on the lookout for an unfamiliar individual with a very specific physical appearance, who was likely to be wearing exotic armour, and to report back immediately if such a person were found.

When somebody finally appeared matching The Exarch’s description, Lyna checked multiple times that there could be no misunderstanding on her part before informing the Exarch. Though she would not be berated for making a mistake, she would die from her own shame at messing up something so obviously important.

“My lord, the one you described.”

“Yes.”

“I see them approaching the watchtower.”

She heard a savage exultation of respite that roared through the linkpearl, causing her to instinctively jerk it away from her ear. It was the most relieved, emotional sound she had heard not just from The Exarch, but in her whole life. Once it had quieted down, she returned the linkpearl to her ear and wondered if she was hearing tears from the other side.

“Thank you,” the Exarch stated, returning to his usual, calm voice. “I will be there shortly. Please also spread word to prepare a great feast this evening where I will be in attendance.”


	8. Alphinaud

The Warrior of Light had sought out Alphinaud first, having not seen him for a longer time than Alisaie. They regretted having to make the choice, given how important they knew they were to her, but their concern for Alphinaud was greater both by how things had unfolded and by the current realities of the situation.

He would have more information about Minfilia, about whom they had been appraised by The Crystal Exarch upon their arrival. Since the summoning of Thancred, her role in Norvrandt had become no longer just a footnote.

Alphinaud met the Warrior outside Stillwater, and after updating each other to the situation outside of Khoulsia, the two headed inland. Most would have seen it as a completely unsentimental reunion, but the two shared their emotions over their work. They passed large, well-planted fields, and a number of watchtowers stationed on hilltops from which jagged iron and wood skewers pointed out in all directions.The town itself was surrounded by a wall of tree trunks, the variations of wear on different sections suggesting it was constantly being rebuilt. There were a few older, stone structures, but the majority of the population seemed to live in simple, wooden homes, some of which seemed hastily assembled but that still provided comfortable and safe shelter.

“How is the condition of the people?” The two were standing by one of the few entrances to the town, out of earshot of any guards. Neither saw this as taking a necessary precaution, but it was better to speak privately out of politeness.

Alphinaud raised a closed hand up to his face, his usual contemplative stance. “I’ve struggled with finding the words to summarize the situation. Though all societies defy simple explanation, the one here in Khoulsia is like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

He seemed to be flipping through his year spent here and trying to decide which individual encounters best reflected the population as a whole.

“I would liken it to an extended state of total war. The economy is healthy, but its output beyond sustaining a decent basic standard of living has all been directed towards the fight against sin eaters. The society appears quite egalitarian. I don’t doubt that some maintain great stores of wealth, but conspicuous displays of fortune are taboo, which I believe is a reaction to decadence of the Eulmore of old. I would say the most prevalent attitudes are perseverance and a sense that many sacrifices are being made but for a good cause.”

“Any word about internal resistance? Tensions?”

“Yes, but because of freedom of movement most dissidents have left. The tributes, taxes, whatever you call them, they are very high. I would be inclined to agree they’re overwhelmingly so. Again, there are not the usual venues to invest or spend money, so there are few opportunities to get ahead financially, which seems to be the lifeblood of motivation in almost all of Eorzea. You know how quickly gougers and carpetbaggers even found their way to Ala Mhigo after its liberation.”

A sardonic chuckle in response. As Lyse was directing troops against the Empire, she had been fighting a continuous war back home to keep basic essentials affordable and available against profiteers. Alphinaud continued.

“It sounds like a pleasant change to have a society not driven by the acquisition of wealth, but a generation of this? No chance of improvement in life from a parent to their children, only the dim hope of progress in an eternal struggle? Some people think Minfilia’s gone too far, that she’s trying to erase any remnant of the society that imprisoned her, though I think everything is just a side effect of her singular mission. As hard as it is to speak out against defeating the sin eaters, I sense all but the most fervent of followers have some doubts that they’re just being made into pieces in a war machine that might save lives but do nothing to improve the lot of the living. That the conflict has been at a standstill for many years now has added a lot of credibility to this viewpoint.“

The Warrior reflected on all this carefully, connecting it to the earlier tangent. “Sounds she’s building a purpose-driven organization more like the Doman or Ala Mhigan Resistance than a typical city-state.”

“Yes, that’s a good observation,” Alphinaud replied, gesturing a finger at his companion before returning his hand to his face. “And like a resistance movement, there’s a bit of a cult of personality around their leader. It’s curious though, I don’t believe she’s done anything herself to cultivate this image. I’m not saying that Lyse or Hein were putting up flyers with their faces on it, but you usually see the use of symbols, songs, stories, right? There’s no invented traditions to that effect that I’ve seen since she came into power. She hasn’t even made any attempt to distribute the story of The Oracle of Light, which is an incredible propagandistic opportunity. In fact, I have observed Minfilia among common people on several occasions, and she actually shies away from this legacy whenever it gets brought up.“

The Warrior of Light could understand the impulse. The cult around them and others who had shared the title was occasionally useful for persuading others, but it was also irritating to get thanked or even blamed for doing things that they had absolutely no part in. A part of the relief of being among the Scions was their referring to them by name, and not by epithet.

“I believe this self-propogating personality cult stems from a very peculiar aspect of social relations under her rule. There is a distinct pridefulness in sorrow. It might be the most important social indicator in this otherwise undifferentiated society. Whereas in Eorzea, where those that have met misfortune in life get cast out and further isolated, in Khoulsia, having gone through bitter trials gives you more authority, for having done more to contribute to the ongoing fight. Towns and people look down at each other for not having seen battle or for not having contributed an excessive share of their resources to the cause. Sometimes these disagreements even rise to accusations of treason. Minfilia neither encourages or discourages this, but the fact that she has undoubtedly suffered so much, and is seen as continuing despite all that she has gone through seems to have found purchase among the people.”

“So what do you personally make of all this?”

Alphinaud smiled. “Now there’s the really hard question. I see myself in her. Well, that’s a bit condescending to say, since she’s older and has been a leader for much longer, but still. I can’t help but compare this militarized territory she’s building to my much-maligned project, The Crystal Braves.” Alphinaud no longer showed no hesitation at mentioning the name. “Of course, its failure points are very different. But the fact she’s expanding her reach through coercion instead of recruitment means that even in every moment leading up to a possible implosion, people are struggling under the yoke of her harsh demands.”

“How about your personal assessment of Minfilia? Is there any relation to, you know, our Minfilia?”

“I see our Minfilia for a moment, in a hand gesture or the wording of a sentence, and then it’s gone. I really wonder how much of it is actually out there, or if it’s just my mind looking desperately for a sign of our dear friend where there is none.”

A long pause. “What do you think we should do next?”

“Good question. I have not been able to do anything, as of yet. I came to investigate, I have no bargaining power or ability to speak for The Crystarium. I say I try to find her, so that you may see for yourself, and then return to The Exarch and decide on a path together.”

Just as Alphinaud was concluding this plan, the two saw a guard approaching. Their face, covered above the eyes by a metal helmet, was framed by wavy black hair and weathered from having seen battle, but still handsome in their youth.

“Can I help you two? You seem to be having quite the spirited discussion, and you in particular look new around here.” They gestured at the Warrior. “Do you need anything to get settled in? A place to stay for the night?”

“We could use your assistance, but not for an extended stay,” Alphinaud answered. “Do you happen to know where Minfilia might be today? My friend and I would quite like to see her if possible.”

“Certainly, I can help with that. My post just concluded, I’ll show you to Eulmore where we should find her today.”

Their guide turned out to be talkative while they walked, and their words were contentedly received by Alphinaud and the Warrior. For them, it was refreshing to again be anonymous, and be able to listen to the stories of others for once.

“I’m somewhat close to Minfilia, you know. Well, I mean, not like a friend or anything. But she knows me, even though I’m just an ordinary soldier. I think it’s because I asked her personally to join the guard.”

They stopped briefly to wave at someone stationed in a watchtower, who waved back with a smile.

“I lost my parents in a sin eater attack about seven years ago. It was a little after she took over Eulmore.”

A quiet moment. Likely they were preparing to compose themselves while describing a particularly emotional episode. It was a familiar routine to Alphinaud and the Warrior.

“I was barely an adult, just a little younger than she was. I had my brother to take care of, he was nine when it happened. Well, in those days, everything was a mess, she was trying to reshape the city, you know? But I heard that Eulmore was opening its gates to everyone, so I set out from Stillwater one day with my brother to try and reach the city. It would be safer inside. Of course, we got attacked by a sin eater on the road. All I could do to protect my brother was to cover his body with mine. I was ready to join my parents, when-”

A distinct sniffle.

“She saved me.” The words came out with a whimper.

“She reached out her hand to me, and asked for my name and my brother’s name, and helped me up. She told me that there was room for both of us in Eulmore, where we could be safe. I decided in that moment that I could no longer be weak, and I asked her right there to let me join her forces.”

By the conclusion of their story, the group was at Gatetown, and passed the rest of their time in silence, as the bustle of the city made it difficult to have a proper conversation while walking at the same time. The Warrior had seen Eulmore in the distance as they approached, but now they could really take in the type of city it was. There was something Limsan about the city, or at least, there was some indication that there had been. The city was a series of overlapping, dark metal hexagons built of heavy walls extending up over a dozen stories. There were some exposed buttresses that suggested there had once been an architecture based on circles, but it was clear, judging by the patchy metalwork that the city had long abandoned that approach. A few open-air windows allowed for a view of the outside or vented steam or smoke, but each of had a hinged door, ready to be shut closed at moment’s notice. All around them on the ground level, soldiers and workers hustled from one place to another, moved by a hectic schedule.

Total war was right. The Warrior, true to their name, felt like they were on the verge of landfall to begin a major operation. To think it had been like this, day in and day out, for years.

They were led up through the levels of Eulmore. The interior at least beared some signs of domesticity. Children ran around, usually escorted by relatives, or a caretaker who seemed responsible for a group of them, and sometimes alone. Rooms off of the main pathway lead to packed residences, some of which clearly were recent constructions where the brickwork had been unceremoniously broken down to create new passages. The smells of industry, of metal and chemical dyes mingled with those of home cooked meals. It was a lot to take in. The Warrior had the impression that Eulmore was a city that one could wander around for a year and still only see a quarter of it.

At some point, they realized their guide no longer was leading them confidently as they had been, as they were unsure where Minfilia was specifically in the city that she had recreated. They would turn a sharp corner or two, and peek around, or ask somebody something and get pointed another direction. Neither the Warrior nor Alphinaud seemed to mind. Both were captivated by the small details of what they observed, reacting with a curious wonder on their first or fiftieth time.

Eventually, they found her. She was on a workshop floor, inspecting a suit of armor next to a soot-covered craftsperson. Her face, too, was dirtied after what had probably been a day involved with other tasks. However, her hair still glimmered, unmistakable even in the visually strident surroundings. They watched as she shared in a detailed conversation, the armorer showing her different metal plates and rivets as she dug for vulnerabilities with a piece of scrap metal. At one point a child cautiously approached her, and she took a moment to share some encouraging words, accepting a piece of artwork, and leaving them with a smile as they rejoined their parents.

“I should be going. I’m going to go see my brother.” Their escort finally spoke up, after being lost in the sight of the woman as all three of them had been. “I’ll try and find Minfilia less busy tomorrow before I head out again.”

Alphinaud bowed graciously. “Thank you for your assistance, and for your story.”

“My pleasure to help.” They waved, which was returned with a wave goodbye that continued briefly until they disappeared into the crowd and off to another part of the city.

“Let’s go, if you’re ready.”

Alphinaud had a sense of what was meant, not from the words, but from the long journeys they had taken together. “You don’t want to try talking to her?”

The Warrior of Light shook their head. “I’ve seen everything I need to know.”


	9. Holminster Switch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Implied death, graphic wounds to sin eaters, exhaustion.

Though The Exarch tried to keep the topic to Lightwardens, Minfilia was all that the group wanted to talk about. Alisaie was disquieted as she heard about the results of her rule in Khoulsia and the encroachments she had made in Lakeland, with an eventually abandoned instinct to doubt the report of her brother. There was no reason for him to deceive her.

“Still,” the Exarch chimed in. “Our mission remains the same. We must find and defeat the Lightwardens before Minfilia gets a chance to. She is not able to contain the light in the same way that our friend here can.” He gestured towards the Warrior with an arm without turning his head. He hid his uncertainty. Minfilia could plausibly contain the aether. His fear is that she might come to learn to channel its power, or refuse to part with it. It was a dangerous scenario and he had to keep his incomplete control over the situation concealed to manage any risks from the Scions. He had hesitated even in telling Urianger the complete truth of Minfilia’s potential, but knew that he would realize it eventually through his own research, and indeed, one of his topics of study was the potential implications of a critical accumulation of light essence, in either body.

Alisaie nodded in agreement. Simple. Defeating sin eaters was becoming her specialty, and it was nice to have a straightforward mission. She hoped it would not put her in conflict with Minfilia. There would be no hesitation of her body in fighting her, if it came to that for the sake of the protection of the realm and of her friends, but she wasn’t sure she would have the words to defend her allegiance to the woman she still admired. She never was one to come into doubt when hearing an enemy’s attempts to taunt or convert her, but that was only because of her unwavering confidence in her moral position. Here, there were elements, both in her conscience and in regards to the complicated magics involved that made her less certain.

The situation was propelled by Lyna’s entrance into the Ocular with a troubled and urgent request for reinforcements in Holminster Switch.

“Another confrontation over tributes?”

“No, my lord. It’s a massive assault of sin eaters unseen in Lakeland for a long time. Eulmore’s forces are already there, but it is reported that the town may still be overrun.”

“Likely the Lightwarden has revealed itself, or perhaps has been discovered. Alert your command immediately.” He turned to the others in the room. “Come, let us depart.”

As they did so, the Exarch assessed the situation. He was unpleased that Eulmore had been ahead of them on this, and was reminded that his mission was entirely incomplete. There had been a few days of needed rest for him, but he was needed in other ways that he neglected. He only could hope this disadvantageous situation would not further punish him, and that the next battle may not be again so soon.

The Exarch and the Scions were the first from The Crystarium to reach the wooded outskirts of the town. Lyna accompanied them, giving reports and assignments via Linkpearl to the soldiers that were to follow.

“Our aim is to clear a path and make for the Lightwarden.” For the group already present, the Exarch took command. “The woods are uninhabited, but I expect we will see people under attack once we make it into the fields and town itself. It is essential that we not become distracted and make for our target. The arriving soldiers will protect the townspeople.”

This time, he could see the reaction of the Warrior of Light for himself as he gave an order that he despised. They, and both of the twins, showed understanding and determination to do what was necessary, but there was a hint of reluctance in leaving people to sin eaters who had only hunger and no mercy. Whether this perceived undercurrent of resistance was real or a projection of his personal ambivalence to the orders, The Exarch could not say.

The group set off into the woods, battling eaters as they did. Most of them seemed to be recently corrupted woodland creatures that folded rapidly by the combined martial abilities and experience of the party and the group was unresisted through the trees, the fields, all the way until they made it to the mostly evacuated outskirts of the village. There, they found Eulorean forces already in the midst of battle against large swarms of sin eaters constantly being reinforced by flying ones of their kind. 

“What should we do?” Alisaie asked.

The Exarch’s answer was unwavering. “Push forward. We have but one objective in this battle.”

Alphinaud offered his assessment to reassure his sister, though perhaps in a way that misunderstood her actual concerns. “In a confrontation with sin eaters Eulmore is our complete ally. A Eulorean soldier will happily let a fellow person stab them in the neck if it means they can land a blow on the sin eater in front of them. We have nothing to fear as they have nothing to fear from us.”

Lyna excused herself from the group. “I will have our forces gather here to form a united front. Please be safe. All of you.” 

The rest of the group continued towards a triplicate heart: the heart of the village, the swarm, and the storm, as each step seemed to bring with it increasingly hostile wind. It was other factors, however, which offered resistance. The group could handle the increasing density of sin eaters. The issue was of the decreasing density of soldiers, who experienced these intersecting gradients as becoming outmatched in numbers. The measure they gave in bravery was rewarded only with the likelihood of their deaths. None of the Scions had come prepared to block out the dying screams all around them from people that they could saved. Never had the dichotomy between completing the mission and saving those immediately in front of them been made so apparent. 

What was merely a simple statement made with no special consideration became elevated to a holy mantra in the mind of each of the party. Push forward. Push forward. Push forward.

Until one sight that could not be ignored. A long tall building with a bell spire. They had pushed beyond the frontier of Eulorean forces, and three sin eaters were unopposed as they tried to find an entrance. Two long-limbed flying eaters pried tiles off of the roof with their talons, hovering from place to place looking for an opening. The greater threat, a hulking winged beast, was tearing at the wooden frame and walls of the front entrance.

Push forward. The Exarch could dismiss his empathy. Push forward. Alphinaud knew that the structure would not hold much longer. Push forward. The Warrior knew that the eaters were on the scent of a bounty of aether to be found inside. Push forward. 

No!

Alisaie had to fight. Would she leave her allies shorthanded against the Lightwarden? What mattered was there was something she could do now. She would save those in this building, and then rush to join the others. She could do it all. Could she?

She began a sprint towards the building.

“Alisaie!” It was Alphinaud. “She needs backup,” he said to himself as he went after her. The Warrior did not join in that direction, but hesitated where The Exarch was trying not to.

Alisaie raised her rapier, already almost in range to fire off her first spell. Before she had a chance to, the two winged eaters disappeared into fragments of light. For a moment, the one responsible appeared on the the rooftop, her golden hair and white dress fluttering in the wind. That moment was broken as she dashed forward to the very edge of the roof, sprung into a leap, and landed while plunging both daggers into the back of the brute’s neck. She quickly withdrew them, hopping lower onto its back in anticipation of its large hands grabbing for her. Backwards slashes at where she had been a moment earlier, made without looking, cut the fingers of the beast to slow further counterattacks. With the eater recoling, she cut one wing off cleanly as she slid down beside its spine, the other dagger stabbed into its body to slow her descent and slice a long wound, pure light shining peering out in a fringe.

The eater made a final desperate attack, tucking its arms in and swinging around in a circle to try and catch the assailant with its thick tail or the spiky ball on the end, but she easily bounded over the appendage and dove directly at its chest, delivering brutal, deep cuts into its core. The eater’s body slackened, no more fight to give.

Somehow, even though none of the dazzled observers knew what mercy towards a soulless creature like a sin eater would look like, the word merciless seemed apt for what Minfilia had unleashed on the creature that collapsed and faded into light.

No more eaters immediately threatened the building. Behind them, the front of united Crystarium and Eulorean forces was visible. Those who were inside were saved. Alisaie and Alphinaud turned to rejoin the other two to continue on towards the Lightwarden after Minfilia who had already run on ahead.

The Warrior recovered from what had been completely absorption in the scene. They turned towards The Crystal Exarch, frozen a step in front of them, and realized that he had grabbed their wrist in an attempt to pull them along the path before he too could not longer ignore Minfilia’s intervention. Realizing he had missed his chance to unhand the Warrior gracefully, the Exarch did so now, and in his fluster seemed to briefly forget his mission. 

“Come, we must continue,” he managed after the momentary pause.

In response, a nod indicating both affirmation and the willingness to not address what had clearly embarrassed the Exarch. The path was easier with Minfilia ahead of them, and there were no more encounters with evacuees. 

The Lightwarden towered into view, already in combat. Each of the late entrants to the battle took stock of their enemy as approached, Minfilia’s lack of caution providing them with an opportunity to see the beast in action. It was similar to the creature at the longhouse, relying on powerful arms and a long tail to attack, though the warden was of course much larger and there was the added danger of chains that it swung around and into the ground randomly and haphazardly.

Against this new creature, Minfilia seemed to be making little progress, keeping her distance and dodging while learning its attacks, cautious to not commit to assumptions that it was the same as any other enemy she had faced. Though she was immune to corruption, the force with which the chain whips slammed into the ground indicated that if she were in the wrong place for just a moment, her body would provide little resistance to their weight.

She had already reached her limits and was seeing how far she could surpass them. It had been many years since her last serious injury. Sin eaters, in their singular focus on acquiring aether, were generally not particularly clever or creative enemies. There were a few dozen forms, and each of them had their routines which could be exploited. She had seen it in the field, she had recorded it in her notes, and she confirmed it emerging from her memories into the contours of the dark when she closed her eyes. The most she had to adapt to would be when one of her soldiers became corrupted and the resulting eater would show faint signs of the quirks that its human predecessor had. She would never hesitate to exploit these weaknesses.

Today, however, had been unceasing in all of its demands on her, from the initial deployment, the leading of the evacuation effort, and then her individual excursion that had lasted all afternoon. She now had neither a free moment nor spare energy to conceptualize how perilous of a situation she was in, where the last of her strength was only barely enough to stay alive. Recognizing the danger would not have made a difference anyways. There was no retreat. She could not leave behind the story that Minfilia had died with her back turned.

She was about to dodge another attack from its raised right arm when an eruption of energy occurred from behind the beast. As it turned around, Minfilia dodged around its chains and caught a glimpse of the one who had arrived. It was the girl from The Inn at Journey’s Head, who was a few paces ahead of her allies that now readied themselves to add to the initial salvo of attacks. Three of them were familiar to her, one was not.

Progress could now be made. The reinforcements were not as agile as she was, but spread out they could each handle their share of the creature’s attention. Strength was shown in numbers as their offensive prowess dealt repeated blows to its formidable scales and opened wounds on its body.

Where there had only been the swiping of the wind, Minfilia’s labored breathing and the sounds of the warden’s attacks, crashing and slicing, voices could now be heard. Between the Scions, the Exarch, and sometimes even to her.

“Alisaie, cover me!”

“Watch out behind.”

“There’s an opening on its right!”

“Minfilia, I’m coming to you.”

Alisaie had dashed from the side to deliver a quick combination of attacks with her rapier before jumping back next to Minfilia.

“Don’t think this is your fight alone,” she said confidently, before turning towards her with a reassuring smile. That expression faded, however, once she observed Minfilia’s condition up close. Her body was soaked in sweat and unsteady, as if struggling to hold up its own weight. The look in her distant eyes indicated clearly what she tried to hide by continuing to fight. She needed for this battle to be over, and though she had no open wounds, had exerted herself to the point of an emergency. Alisaie knew the sensation well; she had pushed herself too far many times herself, though never to this brutal extent. Minfilia was past her last move.

“Alisaie! Look out! Minfilia!” A cry from the Warrior.

The two had been uncharacteristically distracted and a fist was already being brought down upon them. Alisaie’s withheld her instinct to dash away, knowing that she would not be able to bring the other woman with her. Sensing through the haze of her exhaustion this hesitation that would have needlessly tied their fates together, Minfilia shoved Alisaie away and strained to raise her daggers upwards over her head so that she may at least inflict two wounds in her final moment.

The sound of an explosion. Minfilia never averted her gaze and saw that a white flash had accompanied a fiery burst on the warden’s wrist, cancelling its attack. The assailant landed in a crouch.

“Rude of you all to not give me an invitation.”

Thancred saw that Minfilia had been knocked down by the force of the explosion and Alisaie was recovering from being pushed over. Reloading his gunblade, he dashed between them and the warden. A hook punch aimed at him was deflected with a slash across the knuckles and he flipped acrobatically to dodge a chain which still managed to clip his ammunition belt, sending spare cartridges flying across the ground.

A number of attacks from the others struck the warden in the back, causing it to recoil. The gunbreaker was fending off increasingly futile swipes and saw an opening for a decisive strike but knew that he was out of ammunition, having used much of it just getting to this battle. Would a conventional attack suffice?

“Thancred!”

The name pierced his heart. It concealed a tone that, even without the same emotions behind it, he would not admit that he had longed to hear for so long. He turned to look behind him and only saw Minfilia for a second as she tossed him a handful of charged rounds. Raising up his hand, he caught them with ease. There were only four, but each was glowing with magical energy. The Lightwarden faced him, already greatly weakened. Thancred smiled and, reloading his gunblade with finality, dove directly at its chest.

The warden fell over and dissipated. The gusts died with it, a quiet calm descending upon the group. Everyone present watched with relief as the remnants of its light concentrated into clusters that gravitated towards the Warrior who had stepped towards the aether, knowing it was their duty to collect it. It effused around them and they manipulated their body and soul to contain it. Once they felt subdued, the Warrior raised their arm as if seized by a will greater than their own to restore entropy. A beam of energy shot into the heavens and then beyond, and the sky was ruptured into two, unraveling the infinite night.

“Behold! The destruction of a monster and the return of the night. Finally, we have our bringer of shadow.” The Exarch looked in quiet contemplation.

Alphinaud and the Warrior did so as well. Thancred had stayed crouched, keeping the same pose that he had concluded his attack with and not yet caring to behold the dark, thought he could feel it settling in around him. There was something else on his mind.

“You’ve quite the fighter’s instinct.” Thancred did not expect a response, and did not receive one as he finally rose up and turned to look at the one who had called out to help him. He saw only Alisaie, who was standing herself up to rejoin the others.

Minfilia was gone.


	10. Reflections

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Exhaustion, medical setting, extremely potent self-doubt.

Minfilia had run away the moment she saw the light absorbed by the one she was unfamiliar with. The light disappeared from around her during her flight, but it was all the same to her. A singular goal had displaced the one fulfilled, and her deprived mind could only cycle the new thought over and over. She could not even spare a moment to determine if her depleted body would survive. Push forward. She could not let herself be taken into the care of those she had fought the Lightwarden with. There was no ability for her to explain why, but she knew with pure instinct it could not be allowed to happen. 

The resistance faced by the soldiers faded and some of her officers were charging ahead to meet her. They had seen the state she was in when they went their separate paths, and knew that she would make no allowances for rest. Minfilia made eye contact with one of them, noted their dark hair, and then blacked out where she stood.

Minfilia awoke suddenly, her heart racing. Not from panic, the lingering feeling of imminent danger, but simply because she knew there was something for her to do. Excess energy surged through her, and she needed a place to direct it. She observed the situation around her. It was her personal room in The Emergent, which had been tided and outfitted as a private medical ward. The deliriousness of exhaustion had departed, and the vividness with which she now perceived everything made her question how she had even reached such a desperate state.

She reached down to move the blanket covering her aside but her arm resisted the movement. The soreness in her muscles, she realized, was all over and through her body. How long had she been unconscious? She looked out across the balcony into the daylight. Though she had never given orders of the sort, it was known to never let her wake up in a confined place.

Another attempt to get up. To tried her arms and her core. Her mind wanted so badly to do something, but her body cried out in pain and refused. It was perplexing. It took so little to coax a movement from a body, and she could only barely do that.

The memories of what had happened started to return. She knew that she had no part in it, remembering her fatigue had made her a liability for those who had actually defeated the Lightwarden. Though she had thought it would have been a great relief, in the aftermath nothing felt different. Her frustration at her weakness mixed with the frustration that nothing was improved, and her embarrassment that she had ever thought that there would be a difference in the world out there or what she felt inside. The attacks would continue until the job was done. And what of after that? Even with all the Lightwardens defeated, she knew that there would still be Sin Eaters. Indeed, there may come to be even more Lightwardens. 

What may happen was a question for another day. What mattered was the destruction of the enemy she knew. She would grow stronger to meet the challenge. This was nobody’s burden but her own. It had to be her to do it.

Her fists clenched and she stretched her legs even as it hurt her to do so. Then, relaxation. Nothing about her hatred for this situation would accomplish anything. Only her physical recovery could. She closed her eyes to rest.

When Minfilia again woke up, it was nighttime. She felt restored and there was no indication of the hour. The table next to her bed had the medicines and papers on it rearranged, but otherwise everything was the same. On a chair by the side of her bed, a white dress, her daggers and a pair of well-worn but newly cleaned boots rested. She moved to throw the blanket off of her and her body permitted it. A leap out of bed. Her condition was not perfect, but it was enough to fight.

First, it was necessary to make it down to ground level.

The people that looked at her under her hood and those that averted their gazes unknowingly cast two different colors of shame on Minfilia. To those that looked, she felt unworthy, that this broken shell of a person, who had contributed nothing in Lakeland, could be their leader and seen as their hero. She wanted to disappear, fight as a shadow, and then fade into non-existence at the end of it all. Unremembered by anyone.

She doubted the effect she was making, but the people that remained undistracted caused her to doubt even her efforts. All around the city, all around the world, she constantly saw people working diligently, tirelessly for no reward. A single farmer, who kept not a single grain more than they needed. An aged blacksmith, fingers deformed and buckled from a lifetime of sharpening blades for a war being fought for the next generation. The sole caregiver of an group of orphans, who woke up in the twilight each morning to collect ingredients for breakfast and prepared the day’s lessons as the children ate. She admired and loved this about others and in this she found the reason for her struggle. 

But what she saw in others, she could not perceive in herself. How could they be so undeterred by the bleakness of the situation? She had all this power and hope invested in her, and still she could do no better than the common citizen. Still, everyone looked to her for inspiration. She could ask them what they saw in her, but the thought of doing so was absolutely disgusting to her. She did not want to see.

The cloak she was wearing did little to conceal her identity, but at least cast her tears into shadows. Somehow, the most frightening thought in this moment was not of her failure in the past, or her despair for the future. It was the possibility that somebody might try to console her. 

She soon took her first decisive steps out from under the shadows of Eulmore into the darkness of Gatetown. The settlement no longer had the winnowing purpose that gave it its name, but a name is a hard thing to change. Minfilia was going on patrol, to do that which she was meant to do. Away from any perceiving eyes, she found her pace increasing, into a speedy jog, and then an all-out run. Her knees buckled with each step from their recent overuse and her breaths were unstable and heavy but she needed to distract herself from all those incessant, useless thoughts.

Eventually, her lack of direction and energy slowed her to a stop. She had sprinted perhaps a malm and a half down a road that led to no other town, just in a vague eastward direction parallel to the sea. The sounds of her panting and perhaps distantly the ocean were all that could be heard, and as one faded the other grew more clear as Minfilia found herself drawn towards the cliffside. The night was quiet and still. It must have been the meeting point between the latest and earliest hours, as noone else was in sight. 

The waves were audible but, aside from white crests of sea foam, invisible in the darkness. On the top of the cliff, the air was uncharacteristically still. MInfilia knew there were no sin eaters to be found, and nothing to distract her. But in a place like this, she could find herself calm. Through all the reduplicated thoughts, there was one that brought a stop to all others.

“Above all, I am free.”

Fighting was what she choose to do. What she wanted to do. She had considered options of escape, but found them unsatisfactory knowing what she did, with the name and the power that had been granted to her. To commit to a life of battle was the least painful option, and at times, she found herself even able to enjoy it. There could be no allowable celebration of the night in Lakeland, but she swore to herself that in the next battle she would not allow herself to be so weak.

An unknown amount of time passed as Minfilia simply allowed to be in the dark with a clear mind. A moment of mental and physical calm. Until a voice.

“My lady?” The young soldier with the wavy black hair. Well, she was the same age, so they were only as young as she still was. 

“Everyone is searching for you.”

Stepping away from the seaside, she joined with them silently for the trip back to Eulmore.

Minfilia considered her next move as they walked together in peaceful silence. Not content to just enjoy the quiet moment, as her companion was. Her predictions, based on exhaustive research into aetherial forecasts, had been correct and allowed her forces to arrive in Holminster Switch in early anticipation. The next destination, following the same reasoning, was very clear to her. It has to be Il Mheg.


End file.
